Leadership Lessons From Climbing

Great people are those who make others feel that they, too, can become great.” – Mark Twain

We went to Mt. Rainier this weekend and spent two nights at Paradise Inn, one of the historical National Park Lodges first opened in 1917. It’s has no Wi-Fi connectivity: instead it has this fantastic lobby area where guests can hang out by the fireplaces, listen to ranger talks in the evening, find a majestic wood table and play cards, or post a postcard in the “mail stump” – a huge stump next to the registration desk. The rooms are like tiny postage stamps in which you have to be creative about where to hang your wet clothes.

Paradise Inn is at 5,420 feet and is the entry point for most of the guided climbs. There are many routes up the mountain, but this is the route I took for the times I climbed on Mt. Rainier (summit is at 14,410 feet). That sounds like I did a lot, which is not the case – four climbs, two of which we summitted. But I did spend a lot of time doing training hikes on the paths out of Paradise.

Arriving at Paradise was like plugging myself into a higher voltage circuit. I don’t think I stopped grinning all weekend. So, buckle up for some climbing metaphors….

My friend Eric traveled with us this weekend. He did a fair amount of climbing back in the day as well so between the two of us, we have a fair number of climbing stories.

Leading my kids out for a couple of hikes this weekend reminded me of all the good and bad things about hiking with a group. The path up from Paradise starts out paved. But at this time of year, it was still covered with slushy snow.

Eric had a story about a guy he used to climb with named Dave. Dave was 6’3” with size 13 shoes. Apparently, everyone cheered when Dave was leading because he’d kick in the best steps. When the snow is fresh or icy, the person in the lead does the work to kick in solid steps. It’s like doing two or three stomps with each step. It’s exhausting. But for the rest of the team, if the steps kicked in are nicely spaced and solid, it’s a far easier experience, somewhat akin to climbing a set of stairs.

And that’s just one factor in which the person leading can affect the whole group. Going at a steady pace, not too fast and not too slow, and calling breaks at the right time all help everyone settle into a rhythm. Then there’s also the matter of encouragement.

I remember a practice climb on Mt. Rainier I did years ago when I felt totally spent halfway through. My friend encouraged me to take a break to eat and drink before deciding whether I could continue. He was absolutely right – I was totally fine to continue. Great guides are so good at making this call, knowing who needs to take a break and who needs to turn back. It’s not a one-size-fit-all encouragement train.

And climbers have great phrases to encapsulate the down sides, not that they own them by any stretch. There’s “Embrace the suck” to encourage leaning in when the going is tough. And there’s also the acknowledgement that someone has to carry the poop bucket – literally and metaphorically, our stuff goes with us.

Funny that my happy place is one where all those realities, including the suck, are parts of the experience.

Leading my own little team reminded me that life is better when we kick in steps for others, set a sustainable pace, and get a feel for when to encourage and when to walk alongside others when they need to go down to camp.

(featured photo is mine: Mt. Rainier taken from Paradise)

Related climbing metaphor posts:

Frozen Heart

Guides for Transformation

Finding a Rhythm

Climbing Out of My Gunk

Friendship Brownies

The Return Trip

Maniacs

Faith gives flight to the imagination.” – Lailah Gifty Akita

The other day Cooper (the dog) had a play date with a neighbor’s puppy, Ziggy. Four-year-old Mr D. heard me say to the pups, “What are you two maniacs up to?

And Mr. D fell in love – with the word “maniac.

We were at the store a short while later and he yelled from the other end of an aisle, “Mom, call me a maniac!

And he sometimes greets me, “Hi Mom. You maniac!

It’s a rule in our house that we don’t call each other names but maniac seems like a term of affection to me. At least, I was saying it affectionately when I used it on the dogs.

So I looked it up in the dictionary and found that the informal definition matched my liking: An obsessive enthusiast (from Oxford Languages).

As I mentioned in My Love Affair with Words post, the word enthusiastic or enthusiast always reminds me of my dad since it comes from the root, en-Theos or “with God.” I’m at my best when I leave my logical nature and go with the flow of God, life, and the Universe.

So, yes, call me a maniac. On fun days, I have a whole houseful of them!

What if we could astound ourselves?

If we did all the things we are really capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves.” – Thomas Edison

I used to work with someone in IT consulting who had a policy of a four hour minimum. Anytime a client would ask him a question, he’d bill at least four hours. He had reasoning to back it up – that switching tasks was time consuming for him and that he wanted clients to think before contacting him or declaring everything to be an emergency.

He came from a family where his father was very successful, monetarily speaking. And my colleague has also raised sons who seem already poised for financial success.

What stands out for me about this colleague is that he had a healthy amount of self regard – more than most people that I’ve met. Speaking for myself, I was raised in a family where humility was a guiding principle. And I’m grateful that it was.

But WHAT IF we could all be audacious for just a minute? What would you say about your skills, talents, and what makes you special and unique if for a brief period of time you could see them without your humble glasses on? What would you say about yourself if you were your best cheerleader?

Would you remark on your ability to do hard things? Or the talent you have for putting others at ease? Could you commend yourself for all the skills you’ve honed with years of practice and patience? Is there any chance you would see your gifts as ones bestowed upon you by God or whomever else you believe gave you them?

AND if, for just a moment we could do that, would we step into bigger roles and bring our talents to bear for others in a way that we aren’t doing?

There is something to be said for being audacious. It doesn’t have to be only for our financial and personal success. It might mean we would use our talent to its fullest extent.  

What if we could set aside our self-limiting beliefs?

Love Language

At some point, you have to realize that some people can stay in your heart but not your life.” – Sandi Lynn

“I probably won’t see you tomorrow,” my friend Rachel text me, “I’ve got this door project with my dad.” Reading that, I felt a deep ache for my dad because doing projects with him is one of the things I miss most. My family’s love language is projects. I know that’s not exactly one of the five from the love languages book but it’s some combination of acts of service and spending time together combined with getting stuff done!

Our project time was when we got to hang out without great pressure to talk and go to the neighborhood hardware store to get something and chat with all the folks that worked there (I think if my dad hadn’t chosen to be a pastor, he would have loved to be a hardware store guy). I miss the way I always learned some little trick from Dad and most of all the way we’d envision what we were doing together and my dad would throw his arm around me and say, “It’s going to be great, Kid.”

Even though he died unexpectedly in a bike accident, he left me with a list of things we’d always do this time of year. Seal the grout in the tiles we put up along the sides of my driveway, clear the drain field at the base of my driveway, and stain the deck. I do these things and feel my dad with me. We did these things together so many times that I can practically hear his light banter and feel his joie de vie. In fact I went into the hardware store yesterday and Marty, the guy that always consulted with us on projects, was there and I felt this shiver pass through like my dad was right there with me.

Since he’s not here, I do the next best thing and teach my kids the family love language. I’m amazed that the longer he is gone, I don’t miss him less, I just become him more. As we clean the drain field, I can practically hear my dad laughing with my son as he tries to use the cordless drill to get the screws out. I channel his oohing and aahing with my daughter as she pulls out the worms and slugs that having been living in the rich dirt that collected in the drain. He might not be here but this must be the way that love and warmth are passed from generation to generation. We remember the things they love, feel the glow of being together and then pass the spirit on.

It’s going to be great, Kids!